


Indulgences and Indiscretions

by PhantomFox



Series: My (Only) Sin [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alien Biology, BDSM protocol, Bastard Gentle Dom, Begging, Biting, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock Warming, Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Edging, Explicit Consent, F/M, Finger Sucking, Hair-pulling, Head Injury, How to piss off Grandmaster Shan, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Interspecies Sex, Kissing, LITERALLY, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Negotiations, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Planet Belsavis (Star Wars), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Possession, Power Exchange, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Sort Of, Subspace, Tags Are Fun, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Vaginal Fingering, alien dick, coming on command, minor breathplay, praise kink?, pure filth, sense deprivation, smut smut smut, this is Still not how you therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 01:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomFox/pseuds/PhantomFox
Summary: “I will not wait for permission,” he started, and she shivered again at the dark promise in his voice, the way his fingers tightened as he spoke, as if daring her to jerk away. “I will use you for my own pleasure, and reward you as I see fit. Say it once more if you truly want this.”“Please, Lord Scourge?” It came out as hushed as her first supplication, and she moved so that he cupped her cheek, one hand rising to twine their fingers together. “I want you to touch me, want you inside me. Please?”“Who knew the hero of Tython could beg so prettily,” he said just as softly, tugging; she followed the motion, let him pull her into a long, lingering kiss that quieted the half-formed thoughts of guilt and worry, that she would be the reason this mission failed, simply because she couldn’t wait for the crowded corridors of the ship to do this, to surrender to her desires.another small effort to bring about a better ratio of Scourge/f!Knight smut
Relationships: Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Lord Scourge
Series: My (Only) Sin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090988
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Indulgences and Indiscretions

**Author's Note:**

> *ignores migraine to finish, edit and then post this monster*
> 
> now bed x_x
> 
> enjoy the sexy

There was an ambush. 

Of _course_ there was an ambush. Khrysa snarled, ducking a huge weequay who’d thought he could use his greater reach to grab her, lightsaber flashing--he howled as his arm was separated at the shoulder, and then gurgled, green plasma cutting up through his lower jaw to bring him down. She was already meters away when he hit the ground, eyes searching for her giant Sithly shadow; the rioting prisoners had split them, and Scourge was nearly on the other end of the forest clearing, the dark side surging around him as he fought off waves of enemies, stolen blasters and vibroswords ineffective against the crushing blows of his lightsaber. 

If it had been earlier in the day, before Hareth, before finding out what the Republic had been doing here for decades, maybe she wouldn’t have been so winded even with the force thrumming in her veins, weeks old weariness dragging at her. In the back of her mind, she wondered what _exactly_ had been done to her while under the emperor’s control that even weeks after, she still couldn’t bear to try and sleep without Scourge near, his darkness bewilderingly comforting; in the same heartbeat the thought appeared, she banished it. She had no time to worry about the past, not when the future could be measured in mere days, the hours ticking by with an almost physical presence as they hunted the length and breadth of Belsavis for the leader of a death cult, even as Kira and the others worked on stabilizing the prison fast enough to get them some desperately needed support. 

As it was, they were far behind Krannus, still hunting for Dr. Gantrell and his team in the maze of the prison and having to fight imperial squads as well as prisoners more than ready and willing to take their pound of flesh from anything in Republic colors, which made her _obviously_ Jedi armor all the more dangerous. Many of them had been captured by other members of the order, and proved very eager to try and murder her; it wasn’t the first time this kind of maneuver had been attempted, but it was the first time it had worked so _well._ Sucking in a breath, she called for more energy, darting low and fast across the clearing, desperate to get her back to someone that wasn’t trying to kill her; a shadow appeared in front of her, and her lightsaber hummed--

But the shadow was at the wrong angle for the beam to slash through a body, and Khrysa realised her mistake too late; the shadow that she thought had been a jumper clad prisoner was cloth, a crude net flung out to catch her and she scrambled to turn around, heels and free hand clawing deep into the earth, struggling not to continue her headlong race right into the welcoming arms of murderous thugs-- _“SCOURGE!”_

The net fell, hands seizing and wrenching her lightsaber from her--she continued to hear pained screams and curses from her wild fighting until someone stomped down on one arm to hold her still; something slammed into her head, and the very last thing she heard was a bellow, a voice roaring her name and the surge of the force, rising like a tsunami to drown her in darkness.

\---

Khrysa woke slowly, with disconnected sensations giving her an odd feeling of weightlessness; burning warmth curled under her legs and back, something cool and hard pressing against her from shoulder to thigh. The last she could remember was darkness abruptly falling, being grabbed by callous hands--

She couldn’t find the force, couldn’t sense who or what was holding her; panic tried to form as she shifted, and she immediately choked on an agonized cry; her head was pounding hard enough that stars lit the void around her before everything faded again. 

\---

There was a dull ringing in her ears the next time she felt metal against her side; it matched the pounding that radiated through her skull, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t find the panic that had accompanied her the last time she woke. The odd sense of being in freefall had ended as well, although she still sensed movement; she just… wasn’t sure if _she_ was moving or if the warm/cool thing holding her was moving. When she finally gathered enough wits to try and raise her head, a huge clawed hand stroked through her hair, keeping her from shifting. Fading in and out like a bad communicator, she faintly heard a voice murmuring to her. “...ttle one, lie still.”

Her brow furrowing, she concentrated until she could feel her lips moving. “…tol’ you… don’ call me… tha’...”

Sight came back last, just slow enough that Scourge’s expression had finished changing by the time she focused on him, the tendrils framing his mouth relaxing into something more neutral. “Welcome back, Jedi. Keep talking for me, alright?”

“....don’ wanna,” she slurred after a moment, eyelids drifting closed again; it was hard to concentrate, hard to do anything besides lie there. “Lemme slee’...”

“I can’t let you do that just yet.”

“Then make… yer mind up… Sith,” she huffed, grimacing; the throbbing ache at the side of her head suddenly sharpened, his fingertips brushing a pulsating firebrand. “Ow…” 

“It’ll be a bit longer until the pain eases, unfortunately. Now, tell me what day it is, and the warden’s name." It felt like an eternity later, but he was right; as the hurt faded, Scourge distracted her from the shrinking spectre of unconsciousness by making her talk, prompting her when her words trailed off. She knew what he was doing, could almost feel connections being reforged and strengthened, and so held back her more sarcastic comments, eyes closed against the too-bright sunlight filtering down to shine on them. 

“I took care of the rest of the prisoners that attacked us,” he answered when she had satisfied his memory test and proven that she could sit up on her own. She still leaned heavily on him after, exhausted and shivering even though he was feeding energy into her at a steady, filling trickle. “But not before one hit you in the head. With a rock.”

“Almost taken out by a rock… that prick.” This section of Belsavis was one of the few breaks in the frozen crust of the planet, one bridged by huge trees with roots wide enough to drive a speeder on. From what she could tell, they were high up in one of those trees now, with a spectacular view of the far-away ground. Glancing at the distance to the edge of the branch they were on, she looked back, tucking her head against his chest. “How close?” 

There was a long silence at that, Scourge wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her securely as he rested against the tree trunk. “You survived, little one.”

For him to say that...“Very bad then,” she said, not chastising him for the pet name. In this case, she could forgive him the lapse, while she came to terms with how close she’d come to dying. Or possibly being entirely dead; it was hard to tell where the line was sometimes, with the near miracle cure that was kolto and force healing. “We can stop for a bit, right?”

Despite her best efforts, Khrysa wasn’t able to hide the plaintive note in her voice; the council may have approved her return to active status, clearing her for a task that felt more impossible with each new discovery--the alarming presence of the pre-Republic Esh-Kah, the war games that Kira had broken radio silence to tell them about and how high that particular cluster-fuck traveled, as well as wrapping her head around the cult that believed their beloved emperor would resurrect them instead of using them up like charges in a blaster--but that didn’t mean she felt ready to do this. 

“I was already planning on it.” 

“Oh good. I’m going to nap now,” she muttered, shifting until she was more or less cradled in his lap and could reach for a fold of cape to use for a blanket. The way her forearm twisted at doing this made her hiss, releasing it to yank off her glove and gingerly peel the sleeve up. Underneath the tough ribbed fabric was a brilliantly purple and black bruise, covering a good chunk of still tanned skin; the twin suns of Tatooine could burn even through multiple layers of cloth, as she and Kira had found out.

Taking hold of her wrist, Scourge looked closely at it; she forced herself still when feverishly warm fingers poked gently at the edges and center of the bruise. “When did this happen?”

“Right before the rock, I think. Definitely after the net.” She couldn’t hold back another hiss when he checked the motion of her arm, fingers spasming at the flare of pain. “Please tell me we have some kolto left?”

“Enough for this, yes.” Releasing her, he shifted, digging into one of his belt pouches. “Are there any more injuries I should know about?”

She had to stop and think before answering, carefully pay attention to what her body was telling her; while she wasn’t as exhausted as she had been at the dinky station, the council had kept them apart until Khrysa was able to convince them otherwise and prove that she was incapable of sleeping without the Sith’s presence. Master Shan had not been pleased, but when even sedatives had proven ineffective she grudgingly allowed Scourge entry, keeping security cameras trained on both of them.

When they’d left Tython, there had been orders to wean herself from requiring his presence, ones that she only halfheartedly followed. She would have to get over this unhealthy attachment to the Sith, she knew and accepted it, but at the same time, she needed to be at full strength. In the end, she’d decided the lure of a full night's rest versus staring at the ceiling, body tensed as she waited for _something_ to happen hour after hour, was more than worth the grandmaster’s displeasure. The Sith in question seemed amused by the whole situation and smirked at the venomous glares Kimble and Rusk sent him whenever she retired for the night-cycle, casually resting a hand on her shoulder or waist as he walked beside her. She could only imagine how much worse it would be if Kimble had actually remembered what he’d walked in on, as Rusk had gone from respectfully formal to monosyllabic starting the morning after Scourge had fucked her senseless against the wall of the common room; as it was, the visible bite marks he’d left on her neck and shoulders made the medtech frown, giving her an almost betrayed stare.

“Those are the worst ones, I think,” Khrysa sighed at last, shaking off her thoughts. She did hurt in more places than her forearm and head, but they felt like small, minor things, ones that she’d be able to ignore until she could step into a steaming hot shower. “Have you heard from Pak?”

“Not since we activated the last monitoring station.” Finally pulling a small hypospray from his belt, Scourge took her wrist again, holding her still as he pressed the tip to the ugly black center of the bruise; she had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing when ice flooded her skin, burning before it numbed. 

At least the edges had already begun fading into green by the time she rolled her sleeve down and curled back into the Sith, his cape covering her again. “Wake me in ten,” she muttered into his chest plate, eyes closing. “Then we can go kick Krannus’ ass.” 

\--

“Scourge.” Wincing at how the word echoed in her ears--no matter the healing and the borrowed energy, her head still hurt--Khrysa tilted until she found him and gave him a stern, if somewhat bleary look. “We _were_ in a tree. Why are we now in a _cave?”_

He smirked, but didn’t look up from where he was poking at a small fire; if she lifted her head, she could almost see past his shadow, although she had no idea how deep underground they were. Surely they weren’t too far into the cave system, as she could smell fresh, icy wind coming from the opposite direction, and the smoke from the fire hadn’t gathered up near the ceiling. “I chose not to spend the night in said tree.” 

“The _night?!_ What happened to ten minutes,” she demanded, stomping on her anger and beginning to fight with the cape swaddled around her; the Sith had seemed just as motivated as she was to stop Krannus, how could he let her sleep all _night?!_

“Relax, Jedi.” His voice was unconcerned as he continued, “It’s only been an hour, and we are that much closer to him. Besides,” without looking, he held out a hand; dangling from it was a water flask and a ration bar, “you needed the rest just as much as you do these.”

Still fighting with the cape--she’d managed to free one hand inside it, but couldn’t find the edges of the fabric (where did the Sith learn to do this? She’d thought only mothers knew how to wrap something this securely!)--she frowned at him, ignoring the sudden growling of her stomach. “You still should have woken me up! What if we’d been attacked again?”

“I would have killed whoever needed killing and kept you safe. I may have been the emperor’s primary executioner, but that was not my only duty.” He waited a beat before finally looking at her. “Would you like a hand?”

The Sith was still smirking, even if it was just a slight upturning of his tendril-framed lips, eyes gleaming in the fire-lit darkness. “If you clap,” she said shortly, trying to roll to her side and falling flat on her face instead, “I’ll burn this thing.”

Luckily for the cape--not like it would burn without an accelerant anyway; it had to be a kind of armor-weave, it was too heavy and resilient to be anything else--Scourge didn’t applaud like Kira would have, simply laid the flask and ration bar to the side. Within a few moments, she was free of restricting fabric and sitting across from the Sith, working on draining the water flask as slow as she could. Cold and fresh, it soothed the dryness from her throat but didn’t do anything for the taste of the ration bar that she choked down. “Where exactly are we? And is my lightsaber okay?”

“About two kilometers past the watchtower,” he answered. One hand moved to his belt, unclipping a cylinder and passing it over. “I couldn’t check it, however. That biometric lock is a handy thing.”

She hadn’t even thought of that. Dropping the flask into her lap after capping it, she held the hilt to the side, activating the blade; relief flowed through her when brilliant green plasma erupted from the emitter disc, lighting the area around them with a solid, non-flickering beam. Most of their supplies had been lost with the speeders, including the few spare lightsaber parts that could be changed out in the field; now she knew she wouldn’t be weaponless when they finally hunted down the Sith. Extinguishing it, she hooked the hilt to her belt, turning her gaze back to Scourge. “If we’re that close,” she started, going back to gnawing on her ration bar. “Why aren’t we actually there?”

“No matter that he’s a fanatic, Krannus hasn’t risen this quickly by being stupid. If he’s not been monitoring republic frequencies since he arrived, I’ll be surprised.” 

“And if he’s doing that, then he’s able to keep track of us.” Sighing, she finished the cardboard tasting thing and crumpled its wrapper, shoving it into a belt pouch, before scraping hair back from her face and then wincing; strands caught at the movement, and she followed them to find that blood had thoroughly matted hair to her scalp, drying into a nasty, crunchy mess. At least there was no lingering pain from her injury, aside from the now faint headache she'd woken with. “Ick. Now I _really_ want a shower.”

“I can’t get you that, but you can at least rinse it clean. This way.” Standing after he threw a short log into the fire, Scourge ignited his lightsaber.

“Do we have time for this,” she asked, bemused by the wording, but obeyed, pulling her own to help light the darkness. 

\---

At the end of a long, gently downward-sloping tunnel--it was more of a shallow crack in the rock around them, one that was being carved into dripping columns that reminded her of the krayt bones in the Dune Sea--that smelled of wet rock and faintly of sulfer, she found the answer to Scourge’s cryptic words.

“Okay, yes. There is definitely time for this,” she said, pleased as she stood from testing the heat of the pool and peel off her armor. 

She’d begun loosening it on the way down, as the ambient temperature rose instead of falling; she’d expected the tunnel to be just as cool as any other she’d been in, but despite how much the planet hurt (you couldn’t imprison generations--centuries, even!--of prisoners and not expect the place to eventually resonate with their misery and anger) Belsavis seemed determined to surprise her. 

There was a hot spring. 

A glassy, gently rippling surface reflected the diffused light of their lightsabers back up, the steam rising from the pool catching and holding the light in an almost mystical way, and listening carefully, she heard the soft trickle of running water, bouncing back from the cave walls to where they stood. She almost wished they’d had proper lights with them; surely there were all kinds of crystals buried in the dripping walls surrounding them, lost in the darkness, and the rock collector in her itched to go hunting for them. Maybe, if they survived, she could come back here, and do a proper search. Even as she thought it, she snorted internally; she’d had the same desire on nearly every planet she’d visited, but a Jedi’s life was not her own, and so her crystal collection would have to remain small and vendor bought, at least until she retired from active duty. 

Slicing a hole in the wall for her lightsaber to rest in took but a moment, and then she was stacking her armor piece by piece on top of her boots. Coming to a brief halt as she reached the last layer of clothing, she glanced up, meeting his gaze for a second before dropping her eyes to the floor.

She knew better than to ask the Sith to leave--he’d made it clear that if she was anywhere near danger, he would be right there behind her--but she still flushed as her shirt came up over her head; he’d seen all of her during her months as the emperor’s slave, had watched her dress for bed in her stupid cartoony pajamas for weeks now. She might not ever get used to being watched so closely, but at least he never commented on how her face pinked. For his part, Scourge had settled cross-legged near the pool, the beam from his lightsaber casting his shadow huge and dark across the wet rock wall. After testing the waters again, this time with her bare foot, she sat on the edge, feeling for the bottom, and hissing as heat--sweet, sweet warmth (while not near as cold as the frozen hell that was Hoth, this place still had kilometers high glaciers covering over eighty percent of its surface, and the wind coming off them was freezing unless you were near one of the lava rifts)--engulfed her.

When she finally found the bottom, instead of the rough stone she’d expected, she found soft, faintly gritty sand; another pleased sigh escaped, and she slipped in completely, sinking to her knees in blessedly hot water. Oh, they definitely had to try and make a stop here on the way back; the heat was already soothing the pain from bruised skin and muscle, and the thought of actually being able to soak her hurts away made some of the knot in her chest--there since she’d woken from the emperor’s control--relax, just a little.

“Try not to take too long, Jedi,” Scourge reminded her as she began undoing the end of her braid, wet fingers catching. “Come here.”

Blinking, she stood and sloshed across the pool; the surface barely reached her thighs, but it covered her breasts as she sat in front of him. It wasn’t the first time he’d helped with it, and she wondered at this tendency of his; did he have a Thing for playing with hair? Not that she minded; he was always careful with his claws, gently but quickly untangling the almost waist-length tresses. His touch proved just as delicate even with the added difficulty of matted blood and soon hair was floating around her, long blue-green tendrils drifting outward, almost lost against the darkness of the water.

“What color is it?”

“Hmm?” 

“Your hair.” A light tug made her open her eyes and tilt up to look; if she had to name the expression in those blazing red eyes, she’d call it curiosity. 

“It started out midnight blue,” Khrysa answered, starting to pull away, “but Tatooine did a number on it, so it’s more turquoise now.” Those clawed fingers didn’t release her, however, and she glanced back up at him, one of their conversations running through her mind. “What all did he do to you?”

Scourge didn’t answer in words, at first; eyes narrowing slightly, he continued tugging until her neck was bent to an awkward degree, leaning down to seal his lips against hers in a kiss that made her freeze for a brief second before she relaxed, half turning to ease the ache that was wanting to set in. The change in angle allowed them to slot their mouths together properly, to let his tongue slip past her parted lips and teasingly flick against her; he pulled away only when she reached for him, beginning to clutch at his tunics as she rose to her knees. A low questioning sound left her before she could stop it, eyelids fluttering open just as he kissed her brow.

“Nothing that you want to think about,” he said softly, brushing short strands of hair behind her ear. “Turn back around, I’m almost done.”

Dazed, she let go and leaned once more against water smoothed rock, head tilting forward so the Sith could finish picking apart the mess of her braid; she was _not_ lightheaded and dizzy from the kiss, it was simply the heat of the water getting to her, and not the knowledge of what he was capable of doing to her, how good he could make her feel.

While they had slept in the same room for nearly three weeks now, aside from the almost possessive air he displayed, he’d not made any advances towards her; his hands stayed firmly wherever he placed them, his gaze never roved her body like Kimble’s would. In fact, the most erotic thing to have happened was Khrysa discovering how even a one-handed head rub made her melt against him, drape limply across his lap no matter who was around, much to Kira’s glee, Teeseven’s dismay, and Rusk’s and Kimble’s blatant dislike. At least she never moaned in front of them, able to stay quiet even as she was reduced to a puddle by strong, clever fingers.

She wasn’t… quite sure if she was grateful for the nearly respectful distance Scourge was keeping, or whether she regretted it; she’d meditated on what had occurred between them, thought about it (might have conjured memories of it in the shower, biting her fist even as her legs trembled and her fingers went slick between her folds. She would never, ever admit out loud that the most intense orgasms came when she mouthed three words to herself in the hard-to-find solitude of the ‘fresher, weaving the tightest shields she had ever built to keep her fantasies to herself.) and yet she still hadn’t decided. Other Jedi had physical relationships, no matter the council’s censure on the topic, but that wasn’t even her largest stumbling block; her one-time lover being the Emperor’s Wrath for most of his life, and Sith for the whole of it meant that should the council learn of this, not only would they feel obligated to punish her, they could even expel her from the order, in spite of how many times she had proven her loyalty to the light.

Releasing a grateful hum after Scourge announced himself satisfied, she sank down, ducking under to begin the task of rinsing out her hair, rising when her lungs protested the lack of oxygen, feeling all the while for any lingering pain or scar. Throughout the process, she could feel the way he was focused on her, even if he outwardly seemed relaxed and focused on a datapad pulled from somewhere; if she let herself think about it, the water wasn’t enough to explain how heat curled through her, heady to the point of intoxication. 

Once rust-colored water stopped trailing down her body, she crossed her arms over her chest, swallowing as she glanced over her shoulder at Scourge. Seated near the edge of the pool, his tunics parted to the steamy air, he was leaning against the slick rock with one leg bent at the knee; a ridged brow rose as she stood and faced him, his expression controlled even when one arm dropped to her side, baring more of herself to his gaze. 

Her jaw worked before she gulped again, eyes closing. If she went through with this, she couldn’t deny the choices she’d made. At the same time… She wanted this. She wanted it as badly as she wanted every being in the galaxy saved from the emperor’s madness, no matter their allegiance; it would be better by far if they stopped wanting to kill each other, but she’d settle for not having an immortal, all-powerful being of pure darkness at the helm instead. And she was so used to denying herself, to being humble and self-sacrificing no matter what happened after, to giving up as much of herself as she could…

Surely she should be permitted to indulge in this indiscretion, this single damning desire, just once more?

Taking a step forward and forcing herself to breathe, to slow her frantic, racing heart, Khrysa opened her mouth. 

“Please, my lord,” she tried to say, only for it to come out a whisper, desire twisting hot and desperate in her belly, “I want you.”

Both eyes widened as the Sith immediately stiffened, a subtle jerking movement that ended with him sitting upright to rest a hand on his knee, datapad forgotten as he leaned forward, gaze narrowed. “What did you say.”

The words caused the knot inside her to curl tighter and her breath to hitch; Scourge’s voice had dropped to a rumble, demanding instead of asking, sudden avarice in the gaze watching her.

She made herself move closer, speak louder. “Lord Scourge--” another twitch towards her, at the same moment she felt something brush low on her hip, as if a hand had closed there, “--please. I want you.”

“Say it again.” 

“Yes, my lord,” she said needlessly, just to watch red eyes darken, ignoring the way she felt like she was trembling. “Please, my lord. I want you--need you to touch me.”

“You know what those words mean,” he murmured as if he didn’t believe what he’d heard, ”and yet, you continue to use them. Plead with them.” He settled back, expression almost neutral; after a long pause where she fought the urge to fidget, heart in her throat, he spoke again. “Kneel before me.”

It wasn’t a request; it was the farthest thing from it, his presence in the force gone predatory.

She wasn’t too far from the edge now; climbing out made her shiver, water slipping down to pool on the uneven floor, goosebumps rippling in waves across her as wet hair clung to her skin. It felt like she couldn’t get enough air, heat building rapidly in her core as she sank to her knees in front of him. A large, red-skinned hand reached out to capture her chin, tilting her head back up so she had no choice but to look at him, to wait and see how the Sith would respond to her shameful, needy request.

“I will not wait for permission,” he started, and she shivered again at the dark promise in his voice, the way his fingers tightened as he spoke, as if daring her to jerk away. “I will use you for my own pleasure, and reward you as I see fit. Say it once more if you truly want this.” 

“Please, Lord Scourge?” It came out as hushed as her first supplication, and she moved so that he cupped her cheek, one hand rising to twine their fingers together. “I want you to touch me, want you inside me. Please?”

“Who knew the hero of Tython could beg so prettily,” he said just as softly, tugging; she followed the motion, let him pull her into a long, lingering kiss that quieted the half-formed thoughts of guilt and worry, that she would be the reason this mission failed, simply because she couldn’t wait for the crowded corridors of the ship to do this, to surrender to her desires. 

Teeth nipping her bottom lip ended the kiss, a strangled noise escaping her; she’d crawled into his lap, knocking aside the datapad without realising it, and she opened dazed eyes when she felt claws trace the front of her throat, leaving something in their wake. Breathless, she followed the same path with one hand, bemused by the presence of a tingling band and dizzy with its possible meaning as it finished forming around her neck. “What's this?”

"A collar, to remind you of who you belong to.” His ridged brow rose challengingly, and the band pulled until she shifted, straightening from her comfortable almost-sprawl and forcing her breasts to be on display; her heart pounded harder and her cheeks flushed at the way she ground against his thigh as she moved. “Or would you rather wear binders?”

Bondage hadn’t featured all that heavily in her fantasies, despite how he’d controlled her before, keeping her hands bound so he was free to touch her, but the rush of thick, liquid heat she felt at the idea… She swallowed hard, licked dry lips. “I’ll let you know.”

"Good. In a moment, you are to go to the fire, and ready yourself for me. **Tonight, you will not orgasm without my permission."**

The sudden presence of the force turned the words into a command, one that sank deep inside her and locked something into place; she couldn’t stop from whimpering at the sensation, her fingers tightening in his tunics as her hips jerked helplessly. A hand abruptly cupping her sex turned her whimper into a moan, one finger slipping in between her lips to tease at her clit. “So wet already, hmm? How often have you imagined something like this?”

“T-too many times,” she stuttered. Featherlight, she wanted to grind into that touch, wanted him to stroke her properly; she knew without looking that her arousal had left stains on the black fabric of his trousers, could feel it all but drip from her. “Oh, _fuck…”_

Chuckling softly, his fingers withdrew until they trailed along her slit, spreading her slick more fully across hot, sensitive flesh. “Let me guess,” he punctuated the word with a light slap that made her jerk and gasp, shocked by the sudden hurt. His palm settled firmly back on her, petting the mild sting away as he continued, “Every time you locked yourself away in the ‘fresher, you did this to yourself,” another touch to her clit, harder than before, rubbing in slow circles, “made yourself pant and moan, biting your lips to keep those sweet noises of yours silent.”

When she nodded, cheeks hot at how quickly he'd figured her out, Scourge smirked. “You won’t have to tonight. I want to hear every sound you make, little Jedi.” He pushed until she settled on her haunches, pressed his fingers to her mouth; she didn’t need the following command of “Clean them,” to accept the digits, open her lips and lick at the fluid covering his skin. His smirk widened. “Are you ready to admit it? That you like tasting yourself?”

Of course he would ask when she had her tongue curled around his fingers, sucking the taste from him; squinting, she pulled away and nipped--gently--at his fingertips, licking her lips after. “Maybe. You might have to convince me more.”

“I can do that.” There was a hand on her ass, and she doesn’t know when it moved there; he squeezed once, pinpricks of pain from his claws making her heart thump harder for a second. “Now, go do as you were told.”

Breath catching in her throat at the note of command, she swallowed. “Yes sir.”

Standing proved a little harder than she'd expected, knees weak and rubbery underneath her; Scourge had to grab one hand so that she stayed upright, not letting go until she gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. He stopped her when she bent to gather her clothes, saying, "Leave them. You only need your boots and lightsaber."

Blinking, she glanced back at him; despite the heat of her full body flush and the pool’s lingering warmth, she was beginning to feel cold as droplets continued to slip down her body. "But I'm--”

"Khrysa."

The collar tightened at the same time he spoke, and she snapped her jaw shut, reluctantly bowing her head in submission as she altered course, snagging her boots and then stomping them on; she didn't know what the consequences of this little game would be now that she'd given herself to him, beyond what sounded like a promise of being relentlessly and horribly edged, and wasn't ready to test the boundaries just yet. After all, she had agreed to this, begged on her knees for it, even if she didn't understand all of the reasoning behind this near unsettling desire; the week after breaking free of the emperor's control had blurred into a haze of exhaustion save for that night in the Defender's common room, where she'd been made to face the weakness her Sith overseers had instilled in her, and enjoyed what was the only consensual sex act of her life, forgetting what it felt like to be so utterly invaded and violated for too-short a moment. 

Taking her lightsaber from where she had left it, she made her way up the winding tunnel to the main cave, the faint scent of sulfur and wet cavern left behind her; at least he’d not made her go barefoot, the path under her strewn with sharp-edged gravel where rock had collapsed and crumbled. She waited until the only light was that from green plasma to start gathering and wringing her hair, hoping to get more water out of the long tresses before it could chill her further, weapon floating beside her; she was sure to have left a trail, but she’d not sensed a single presence besides Scourge the entire time she’d been awake, not even that of an animal making the cave system its home, so it was more than safe enough for her to sink inside herself, fingers on autopilot as she walked.

She still felt dirty when she thought of the almost seven months she’d had the emperor in her head, and wondered if she would ever feel clean again, or if she would always want to scrub at the inside of her skin. But aside from her former padawan--who’d not been freed all that long herself and so wasn’t even sure what it felt like _without_ the emperor’s covert influence--there was no one she could ask; not only did the council do their best to keep Khrysa and Scourge separated, they also kept her crew isolated from the rest of the temple. The only other Jedi she saw during those two weeks on Tython were the council, the healers, and the temple guards who accompanied Scourge to her door and gave her silent, judging stares before leaving. Not even the ghost of her master had contacted her since, and she didn’t know if he’d exhausted himself helping her, or if Orgus truly had no sense of time now that he was one with the force.

As it stood, she and Kira were the only Jedi to have escaped; the council had been near ready to declare the whole strike team K.I.A. by the time Khrysa had contacted them. There was still no sign of Masters Braga and Sedoru, nor of Leeha or her Meedees, and despite Scourge’s reassurances of their continuing existence, the council feared the worst, that if the others hadn’t been executed, they’d fallen as far as Khrysa had. When she’d finally gotten the courage to ask, Scourge had looked at her for a long moment before telling her all he knew; sent to different academies and Sith masters the better to continue breaking them, the others had spent just as much time in the emperor’s company as she had before leaving the fortress. Khrysa had been the only one deemed worthy of being directly trained by the high ranking Sith that also called the fortress home, kept there to make sure that the emperor’s hold on her remained firm; the Hero of Tython and Orgus Din’s only padawan in twenty years was too great a prize to be risked in the murderous shuffle of the academies and inter-Sith rivalries.

Golden firelight appeared well before she expected, and she blinked, looking down to find that she’d not only wrung her hair dry, she’d braided it into a long, damp rope that trailed down her chest, fingers almost at the end of the plait. Swallowing away the bitter taste the memories had left, she drew a deep breath, releasing it in a huff.

“Well,” she muttered, letting the hilt drop into her hand after tying off her hair, “time to stop wool-gathering.”

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t shiver at the thought of what was to come, no matter how dark her thoughts had turned, although the shaking could just as easily be from the open cave mouth a handful of meters away. After building the fire back up, she busied herself with making sure the place was warm and comfortable, weaving her own insulating shield overtop the one Scourge had built, registering and ignoring the way the two barriers sparked at each other. The Sith remained just as dark as she remembered from their first encounter on Quesh, wisps of shadow trailing his movements whenever he seemed particularly annoyed by her crew’s antics; she was getting used to it, however, no longer flinching or choking on the near-tangible darkness that surrounded him.

Luckily, Scourge had managed to keep hold of a bedroll through the ambush; flattening the pad out near the fire, she glanced at his cape, debating for a second as she kicked off her boots. The thing was more than wide enough to completely cover the bed, and it would further soften the worn rock floor for whatever he may have planned for her. Folding it in half, she laid it overtop the pad, and settled in the center, shifting uncomfortably; despite the arousal still slicking her folds, she… didn't know how to start. 

_Ready yourself_ as a command could leave a lot of room for potential error; before, the Sith had spent a long time physically preparing her, making sure he wouldn't hurt her with his sheer size, all the while keeping her distracted from instilled terror at being touched so intimately. Even so, she had been sore the next time she woke, an almost pleasant ache that made spreading her legs difficult for a day or two after. If she wanted to avoid that pain--and still enjoy the experience, no matter how short the encounter turned out to be--then she needed to get ready as fast as she could; she’d heard the rustle of clothing being removed behind her as she left the cavern, and knew that he wouldn’t take any longer than he had to. 

Another deep breath and Khrysa shifted, knees spreading as her head tilted back; the collar around her neck didn’t feel any heavier, but she was abruptly more aware of it, of the way it pressed against her pulse, gently restricting her. Running the fingertips of one hand along the tingling band of energy, she swallowed at feeling it, and at what it represented; that for this one night she belonged to him, had given over all control to the Sith Lord who had protected her from the ones that spent so long tormenting her.

 _Stars,_ why did that make her wetter?

Eyes closing and keeping fingers on the collar, she cupped one breast, arousal twisting in her belly as she brushed her thumb across the nipple; already peaked from the cool air of the cave, the warmth and pressure made her gasp. It would have been better by far if Scourge had been the one touching her; he ran so hot, she could only imagine the delicious contrast of his feverish body against her chilled skin, his mouth and hands working together to make her whimper and moan. 

With that thought in mind, it became easier to touch herself, to conjure the memories and fantasies she’d use in the shower; she roamed her body, caressing and teasing, stroking her sex and rubbing at her clit. His compulsion held firm, however; it didn’t matter how familiar and well-loved the actions were, she couldn’t bring herself over the edge, and a needy sob escaped her as she curled into a ball. He’d told her, commanded her, but some tiny stubborn sliver hadn’t believed that he would do this to her, make her so desperate without laying a single finger on her. Thighs shaking, she forced herself to move from her throbbing clit, to run through the wet dripping from her and slide inside, her walls fluttering and clenching. It was another tease, but it satisfied some portion of her need, the motion of her fingers almost awkward as she searched for the spot that set fireworks off in her head in desperate hope of release. 

She started when something scuffed loudly against rock, head jerking up to see a bare-chested Scourge approaching, lightsaber in one hand, and a bundle of fabric in the other. Fingers leaving with an obscene noise--she was so wet it had dribbled down to circle her wrist, the scent of arousal strong even against the smoke of the fire and damp of the cave--she did her best to sit upright, curling her drenched hand in the fabric underneath her as she struggled to slow her breathing. 

"Did I say you could stop?"

Jaw dropping, Khrysa stared for a second, watching as the red beam snapped off; she released her handful of cloth, creeping back to keep playing with herself as Scourge continued past her. "N-no, my lord."

Going to the chunk of rock he’d been using as a seat when she woke, the Sith dropped to one knee, stacking the bundle--her clothes and armor, and his tunics--on top of his discarded armor. He kept his lightsaber, however, and as he turned to her, she saw that his trousers were barely clinging to his hips, unfastened enough that she could follow the dip and curve of muscle all the way down his abdomen. Water still beaded on red skin, and her eyes locked on one as it trailed down the v-shaped ridges of his chest, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips. 

Once she managed to drag her gaze away, she realized that he still held something in his other hand; flickering light gleamed off dull metal, almost lost against black fabric. A thrill went down her spine, and her breath hitched, fingers stilling; the collar tugged, and she flushed, switching her gaze to his face. 

“Turn around,” he ordered, expression amused as the collar tightened in time with a second pull. “Focus on what you’re doing, not me.”

Swallowing her automatic response-- _How am I supposed to focus on_ anything _when you’re looking at me like I’m some kind of prey?_ \--she nodded, eyes closing so she could concentrate on how her fingers were moving inside her, the arousal tightening her belly and forcing her toes to curl. That didn’t stop her awareness of him, of how he circled her, the fingers that brushed loose hair out of her face, the thumb that swept slow and firm across her lips; he tasted like skin and the mineral heavy water from the pool, the end of his nail sharp when she wrapped her tongue around it, trying not to pant as she glanced pleadingly up at him. Between her legs, her thrusting fingers faltered again and she whined, shoulders hunching; _force,_ she wanted to _come,_ wanted that lightning to shoot through her and make her forget everything for a neverending second of white-hot pleasure…

“How close are you, my Jedi?” 

“So close,” she answered in a strained voice, nuzzling into the hand that cupped her cheek, “so so close, but it’s not enough, not near enough… Please let me come, please...”

Her words trailed off into a despairing whimper when the Sith chuckled low and dark, his feverishly warm hand leaving her face, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Not yet.”

She lost sight of him as he circled her once more and let her head drop, gritting her teeth against another useless plea; it felt like she'd been at this for hours instead of minutes, need burning hot and desperate inside her, his command locking her on the very edge of release. It didn’t help at all that his arousal burned just as hot, rippling against her mind in frustratingly controlled waves. The collar’s impetus tilted her back up, and she couldn’t keep from gasping when cloth covered her eyes, blacking out the cavern around her; she was abruptly aware of how loud she was, the walls echoing with her sounds. Panic tried to rise at the sudden realization of how vulnerable they were, of how much danger she's put them into with her stupid, needy desire, but Scourge had already knotted the blindfold in place, stealing her sight from her.

Mouth drying, she blindly twisted around to face him, hand slipping from her sex, ignoring the tightening band of energy. “Scourge--wait--what if--”

It wasn’t fingers that wrapped around her wrist, forcing it to return to her drenched folds; those were busy sinking into the hair at her nape to drag her head back, his other cupping and squeezing her breast before pinching the nipple almost punishingly. “There is not a being on this planet,” he replied in a low growl, the words vibrating into her lungs as he spoke, “that could stand against me and win.” She yelped when he sank teeth into the join of her neck and shoulder, his arm now around her waist and keeping her pressed from shoulders to pelvis against him as the bite gentled, became soft kisses interspersed with light nipping, continuing, “You are _mine_ tonight, and I protect what is mine. _Trust_ me, Khrysa.”

 _Oh, fuck._ If she’d thought this unending stimulation was awful before, with only her hands and imagination for company, then to actually have that hard feverish body press so firmly against her was a new kind of torture; with her legs stretched so wide across his lap, the pressure of her trembling fingers made her gasp raggedly, the muscles in her thighs twitching as she quaked. She’d been close before, but the certainty in his voice combined with her missing sense made her skin prickle, arousal deepening; the nipping, teasing kisses he was peppering along her neck and shoulders didn’t help in the slightest, short-circuiting her brain and stealing her words even more thoroughly than the petting.

Her answer would have been immediate, otherwise; no matter that he was part of the force now, she trusted Orgus and his judgement, just as she had trusted Scourge to protect her when her mind wasn’t even her own, and was trusting him now when she was surrounded by beings out for her blood. As it was, he purred into her shoulder, biting down harder when she parted her shields a little, just enough for him to get a glimpse of exactly how much she trusted him. 

She still couldn't stop from shuddering at hearing the jingle, swallowed when they closed on one wrist and then the other with sharp metallic _clicks;_ thankfully, these weren’t the bulky mechanical terrors designed for force users, but something that felt like slender bangles joined by a short chain when she pulled experimentally at them. Her exploration ended before she was satisfied; Scourge was standing, the collar urging her forward and onto her knees, the movement made awkward by the binders. “Open your mouth, and put your hands back where they belong.”

The heat that had been simmering ever since she’d made her choice was boiling higher with each freedom he took, the cool domination suffused in every command encouraging a fog to overtake her mind, dragging her deeper and deeper into subservience; the approval in his voice, the caress of clawed fingers brushing her skin was causing her to go warm and fuzzy, the few sounds escaping her rapidly losing any semblance to basic the further she drifted into this new headspace. Beneath her knees, she felt every bump and dip of the rocky floor as she obeyed the directions to spread her legs, push dripping fingers back inside and open her mouth, lick and suck at the conical head that was starting to bead with spicy-musk. 

A firm grip in her hair kept her in place when she tilted to take him further, swirling her tongue along the shaft as best she could; she wanted to explore him more, experience how he felt in her throat when she had no idea how much of his length went untouched. A soft questioning sound left her, and she opened her eyes to darkness, confused before she finally remembered; it was his will that she be blind, and so she would remain as long as he desired, and her eyes slipped closed once again, muscles going a little more slack at this acceptance.

“Oh, you are a clever girl, aren’t you?” He rewarded her with an easing of his grip, letting her wrap her lips around him and suck, relishing the salty, faintly spicy fluid she found. “You’d be surprised how few understand their chosen roles so quickly.”

 _Chosen?_ There must be more to this type of game than she’d originally imagined, more than wanting to be dominated in such a way; she’d have to research later, when she wasn’t gently tormenting herself at a Sith’s order, busily swallowing his cock to try and distract herself from her own desperate need. Folds held open so that all four fingers could now work inside her, the arousal dripping from her was so thick that the movements were near-frictionless; the air against her was silky cool on one side and sunshine warm on the other, the perspiration slipping down her back and ribs causing her skin to pebble in its wake. It was getting harder to concentrate, to keep her mouth on him instead of pressing her forehead into his thigh and sobbing out her despair; the rumbling sounds she was managing to drag from him was almost reward enough, the movements of her hands smoothing into a hypnotic rhythm that gradually mimicked her mouth on him. 

In and out, in and out, pause for a breath, a moan, for her head to bow as her inner thighs grew slick and wet; his quiet snarls filled her ears and mind, louder than the background noise of her thoughts, a litany of curses and pleas that she couldn’t spare the energy to silence. In and out, in and out, suction hollowing her cheeks, clawtips scratching slow across her scalp as that ridged, alien cock worked further into her; every now and then, she almost understood the growls, a thrill going through her each time she recognized them for what they were--praise, said in a pleased rumble that made her repeat whatever had earned that jerk of his hips and the brush of his mind against hers, dark and possessive. Her favorite noise so far was something that sounded like her name, strangled at the same time fingers locked into her hair, immobilising her until she was dizzy and breathless.

She’d managed to pull another such groan from him when he paused and held her in place long enough that her lungs started to ache, and her fingers slowly stilled; she whined, just a little, fighting the urge to yank away. She’d been struggling to get a full breath for a while now, the orgasm held so firmly out of reach making it difficult to do more than gasp as she did her best to keep moving, giving him as much pleasure as she could despite the steadily growing pain in her jaw; with him so deep, however, she couldn’t get those helpful little gulps of air and her bound hands left her sex to clench in the fabric beneath her as she grappled with the growing need. After a moment, however, he hissed and pulled back, leaving her entirely; head dropping, she panted and coughed, leaning hard against his leg, only to raise it again at a tug from the collar a second later, hope fluttering. 

“Good girl,” came a quiet rumble. “Lie back, and spread yourself open for me; don’t let those fingers stop again.”

 _Wha--how did_ \--she _still_ had to keep _touching?!_ When the barest brush of a fingertip was enough to make her jerk and spasm, her every breath a mewl that echoed off the cavern walls? Biting her tongue, Khrysa made herself nod, awkwardly dropping onto the warmed bedroll, parting her knees so air could brush her wet flesh playfully. She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped when she grazed her lips, or the half sobbed, “Please,” just as she began rubbing the slick hood of her clit with the pads of her fingers, her other obediently holding herself open so the Sith could watch her useless massaging. 

“Patience,” Scourge chuckled, shifting closer, his boots scraping rock; a warm, large hand closed on her knee, easing her legs further apart despite the way she whimpered and tilted away from the fire’s warmth, blood rushing to her cheeks from this intimate inspection. “Well, now; look at _this,_ ” fingers slipped down her inner thigh, traced her swollen sex with lazy movements; her breath stuttered and her back arched as he dragged them through her slick, carefully avoiding her most sensitive parts, “and I thought you were wet before. You’re _soaked,_ Jedi.” Over her strained panting, she swore she _heard_ the soft, liquid sound as they left her, obscenely loud against the forgotten crackle of the fire. “And you’re shaking,” he pressed directly on her clit, began rubbing slow and firm, carefully placed so as not to interfere with her own despite the way her hips jerked at the touch, “with every stroke,” up and down, in time with her heaving chest as she fought to control herself, struggled not to grind too needily against him, “of your fingers. Should I allow you to come? Or make you wait that much longer, see what you’re willing to do for a single orgasm?”

“Aah! Ahn-no, nononono, please let me come, please, I can’t wait any more!” Startled into speech and reaching blindly, she dared grab at him, curling the fingers of one hand around his wrist as her legs snapped shut; she’d been riding the edge _forever_ it seemed, would have orgasmed multiple times over by now if she’d been on her own, she _ached_ with how her body was clenching around _nothing,_ the memories of his cock filling her so deeply the only thing that was keeping her from pleading to stop, if only for a moment, if only so she could catch her breath, give her poor sex a rest-- “Please please please, I need it so bad, need to come, please!”

“Let go.” Under the stern tone was amusement; he’d stopped the movements of his thumb as soon as she’d shifted, although once she released him, his hand settled low on her belly, pinning her hips to the ground, his claw tips dimpling her skin in a way that caused shudders to crawl down her spine (it was less a fear of being gutted and more the arousal spiraling higher at how he dried his hand by wiping it across the outside of her thigh that made her tremble). “Thanks to this display, I’ve changed my mind. Show me that needy little cunt.”

“Y-yes, my lord,” she whimpered--how many unspoken rules had she broken when she grabbed at him? Was she not allowed to move a muscle without his permission, his approval?--she forced her legs apart, made sure she was open as his hand wrapped around the back of a thigh, shoving her knee against her chest despite her surprised squeak and the way she stiffened. 

“Keep your hands where they are and don’t move. Let me hear how badly you want to come.” 

If he wanted her to beg, then she would beg, and it would sting her pride no more than before, even if she didn’t understand why he was taking such care in pinning her, nor why she could sense him moving clos--”Oh my fuck!!!”

Her right leg immediately wrapped over his shoulders, but her left, held to her chest by Scourge’s durasteel grip, couldn’t do more than twitch, her toes curling as pleasure washed over her; a strong, pointed tongue was caressing every inch of her, fast and merciless and slick and _hard,_ tracing her clit and dragging shrill cries from her as she struggled to both get _closer_ to and _away_ from him. She barely remembered his order to keep still, was doing all she could just to make sure she held herself open instead of grabbing at him, the pinpricks of pain low on her abdomen only making her blood boil hotter in her veins. 

_Put. Your leg. Down,_ she heard faintly, her collar enforcing the order by squeezing her throat.

Whimpering, she obeyed, shaking with effort; her foot landed on cold stone, the shock making her flinch. “I-I’m su-sorry, sir!”

 _Do not move again._

With that, he pressed harder on her belly, continuing to lick, shifting to using the flat of his tongue on her clit; the last time, she’d been too exhausted to truly enjoy it, worn out by over ninety hours of sleep deprivation and the orgasms he’d wrung from her beforehand, pleading for his cock before she could come from his mouth. This time, she was barred from that release, and so was forced to endure every lick, every slick stroke, shudder and quake through pleasure that made her back arch and her breath stutter; her babbling cries were replaced by dry sobbing when words finally escaped her, all of her concentration spent on _not moving,_ on keeping her folds apart no matter what he did to her. 

Oh force, she wanted to come, needed to come, couldn’t take any more of this near-unbearable heat burning inside, couldn’t even get away from the endless stimulation because there was an entire planet at her back, and an immovable force of nature disguised as a Sith on top of her, holding her down with hands and mouth and tongue, determined to drive her insane with unsatisfied need, _force,_ what did she have to say to be granted an orgasm, to convince her lord and master that she was worthy of it, please, _gods,_ she would be _good,_ please please _please, Lord Scourge, let me come!_

She felt his purr rumble into her pelvic bones as he sucked her clit, somehow found the breath to wail as fingers pushed into her, so much thicker than hers, gliding in and out and pressing _perfectly,_ easily finding that bundle of nerves so deep inside. **_Come for me._ **

It was like being overtaken by a supernova; her mind blanked out, the heat roaring through her veins hot as the Defender’s reactors and just as destructive, leaving her trembling in the aftermath, the cave around her a vague suggestion at best. She was almost aware of the hand around her ankle (when did it move there? Hadn’t it been under her thigh?) releasing her, letting it drop to the side and then shift her so that she was more or less comfortable, only the binders around her wrists keeping her from being a boneless puddle. Some long, mindless moments after this, she whined softly, tried to squirm away; the digits still inside--long and thick and moving effortlessly between her twitching legs--were making her spasm with every shift, but her body was so far away, so hard to find through the stupor that had taken her. 

“Now, what do we say?”

Blinking under the blindfold, idly wondering when it’d grown damp against her cheeks, she fumbled for words, tongue sneaking out to feel how tender her swollen lips were. “T'ank you, m’lor,” she mumbled, blindly turning her face into the hand that cupped her cheek.

“Very good." He stayed inside her, but she sensed him moving, solid bulk settling over her; she groaned, changed her mind and tried to get closer, reveled in the soft liquid feeling the praise was filling her with. “Continue to behave, and I’ll let you come again.”

A nebulous thought drifted to her through the syrupy haze as he kissed her, slow and deep, gently fucking her through aftershocks that seemed to have no end, the heat he’d set in her burning just as high and strong; would she survive another orgasm this intense? Or would she shatter, fall apart in his grasp and become nothing more than a puppet, something he was able to control with a word and a glance, the brush of his feverish hands enough to set her trembling with senseless desire?

Force. She didn’t know.

And she didn’t want to think about that right now either, didn’t want to have this stolen moment tainted by her thoughts, no matter how abstract they turned out to be; shifting a little, lax hands twitching, she almost reached for him, wanting to touch before she remembered. He’d not given her permission to stop, so she had to keep going, even with his fingers deep inside her, petting her walls almost lazily; the very thought of losing the approval in his voice made her chest ache, while the idea of willfully defying him could barely penetrate the cottony fog in her skull. Moaning around his tongue, she forced herself to rub at her clit, even as she flinched from the contact; she was so tender, from need and overstimulation both, but she couldn’t disobey him. 

Breaking the kiss with an evil chuckle, Scourge tangled fingers in her hair, tilting her back so he could nip and bite along her neck and jaw. “That’s right, little one: if you disobey, I’ll have to punish you. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? _My_ good girl. And _my good girl_ doesn’t want to be punished, does she?”

The words sank into her mind, sending heat shuddering down her spine; did she want to experience _that_ along with the dominance he was giving her, push him to some unknown breaking point, simply to see if she could take it?

No, she decided, thoughts still soft-edged and words hard to find; she much preferred this firm, gentle handling, the warmth that fizzled through her chest and into her belly, mixing with her arousal so that every order and every bit of praise made her pulse beat harder and wetness leak quicker from her. “No, sir,” she managed to slur at last, somehow going a little more lax underneath him, “I’ll be good...”

“Good girl.” 

With that, he kissed her again, another deliciously slow brush of lips and tongues that let her taste the remnants of her slick on him; faintly musky, she couldn’t deny that she liked the taste, especially overlaid with _him_ , and her hips rolled a little more into their combined ministrations, only to buck again, a shocked sound escaping her. Meeting through a thin barrier of flesh, they were pressing against the same oversensitive nerves, squeezing it from inside and out both; white flashed and he swallowed her cry, deliberately curling against her walls to make her spasm once more before withdrawing, pulling back so that he wasn’t leaning over her so closely, the hand cupping her head letting her drop gently back to the ground. 

Wet dripped onto her belly, left a trail between her breasts; her mouth was open before those fingers brushed her lips, was surprised to wrap her tongue around three, and then whimpered, fought the urge to try and close her legs (an impossible task, with him kneeling between them, forcibly keeping them spread) as lust sparked through her. On the Defender, she’d felt a sharp pinching pain with just two of those massive digits, but for her to feel almost nothing with _three?_

“Ohh, guhs,” she groaned around him, working her clit a little faster. Had she truly gotten that loose, or was her brain just broken, fried by too much arousal borne for far too long?

“You prepared yourself that well,” he answered in a purr, covering one breast and teasing her nipple with his claws; one finger was pulled from her, the remaining two spreading a little so she could lick between them. “So wet and ready; you’ll take my cock perfectly.”

Well, in that case… She let her eyes drift closed again, focused on sucking him clean, sounds escaping her as her fingers stroked and his pinched, raising one nipple and then the other back to hard, tingling peaks; once more, pleasure clouded over her mind, stealing away her awareness of everything to let her sink into herself. There was something… Not meditative, but rather trance-like about this, the movements lulling her into a deeper, dreamier state, the only solid things in the galaxy the ground at her back, the incessant arousal deep inside, and Scourge, his bulk keeping her shaking legs apart while his fingers pumped leisurely between her lips; he’d shifted, leaned down to lick the shallow valley of her breasts, a long, hot swipe that ended at the hollow of her throat before returning to massaging and playing with her body, letting her clean him of every trace of slick, her tongue working without conscious thought. 

So she was shocked into whimpering when metal dug into her wrists, ruthlessly pulling her hands from her sex; the digits in her mouth slipped away at the same moment, but she was more concerned by the way she couldn’t touch herself anymore. Earlier, she’d been frustrated by how he wouldn’t let her stop, and now tears pricked her eyes because she couldn’t _continue_ touching, and if she didn’t obey, she wouldn’t get to come again, wouldn’t be dragged further into this wonderful, sinful pleasure, he’d leave her wet and _needy_ and _desperate--_

It didn’t matter that the hands guiding her into a new position were his; she trembled as she rolled over, felt her shoulders tighten, and choked down another anxious whine as her collar tugged, tightening until her face was buried in fabric that smelled faintly like the wind from a battlefield, electrical discharge and faded smoke, and more strongly of Scourge, mature male underscored with something similar to the spice she tasted when she swallowed him. His presence behind her was dark and possessive and calming, she had _plenty_ of pent up arousal flowing in her veins, but her breath was starting to hitch, muscles tensing and untensing minutely; he’d not said, she was disobeying, but she didn’t _want to,_ her hands were stuck in place, she couldn’t put them back--

“Now I can fuck you like you deserve,” she heard, and the panic vanished as if it had never been, replaced with a rush of lust; he was grasping her hips, and she felt heat at the back of her legs as he moved closer, her eyes widening when she realised they were skin to skin, “with no interruptions, and no one to hear how you scream for me.” Something thick and hot and hard began to push past her folds and then she was fisting cloth, trembling and panting from how she was being held still; the collar and binders were firmly affixed to the ground, his grip just as solid, leaving her to twitch helplessly towards him. “Ah-ah. We go at my pace, sweet Jedi.”

With that, she felt him begin to move, furnace hot and so, so deliciously solid; he took his time, rocking into her slow and dirty, so slowly she felt every ridge as it entered and left her, a centimeter at a time, each one a little deeper than the previous. It was enough to bring frustrated tears to her eyes, and she began straining against his durasteel grip well before he was fully seated, whining high and sharp every time he paused to adjust her, or to run fingertips across her throbbing clit, perfectly immobile as he made her squirm. _Fuck,_ she didn’t want this tease, she wanted him to _pound_ into her, wanted that rigid length to fill her completely, and instead, he was being almost _gentle_ with her, his half-heard murmuring a barely understood counterpoint to his languid thrusts. 

“Oh, please,” she whimpered the next time he slipped a hand underneath her; it was all she could think, all she could say as he spread her folds more fully, stroking with one finger as his other tightened on her waist. She didn’t even know what she was begging _for,_ only that it was up to him, his decision alone, and the most she could hope for was convincing him to give it to her earlier than he’d planned. “Please, please, please...”

There was an evil chuckle behind her, and he cupped her sex briefly; his fingers left a rapidly cooling trail on her skin as he pulled her up against him, the movement and sudden warmth at her back making her gasp raggedly. “Yes? Do you need something?”

A tiny part of her noticed that he wasn’t even breathing hard and was annoyed--how could he _not_ be affected by this, when she was shaking uncontrollably, her heart pounding in her ears, every single _cell_ of her drowning in lust--but the rest was far more concerned by the fact that she now had to find enough wits to answer. It’d been difficult enough in the first place, and she bit her tongue on a moan, struggling to find more words to string together; Scourge was still rolling into her, still caressing and squeezing, scattering her thoughts as soon as she found them. 

“Need more,” she finally managed to sob out, pushing back as hard as she could and searching until she found a wrist to wrap her bound hands around. “Please, please, need more, want more…”

“More?” Another dark chuckle. “More of this?” Fingers returned to her clit, rubbing and pinching until she cried out, clinging to him. “Or this?” He abruptly rammed forward, his cock suddenly so much deeper inside her, and a wail escaped as she clenched on him helplessly. “My Jedi has to answer soon, if she wants it.” 

Beginning to wriggle frantically, she sobbed and moaned, ignoring how the arm curled under her breasts tightened to hold her still; why couldn’t he just read her mind?! He’d done it plenty the last time, why was he making her say it?!

“I want _you_ to hear it,” rumbled through her; his mouth latched onto the join of her neck and shoulder, sucking another mark into the skin before continuing, “I want you to know how desperate you've become, to taste the words as they leave your lips. Tell your lord what you want, Khrysa.”

She tightened again, felt the blindfold grow damper; although her collar wasn't enforcing the order, didn't tug or squeeze, it felt heavier, more solid than a finger-wide band of tingling energy should have been. “Fuck me! Fuck me, gods, fuck me and let me come!”

“Such pretty, filthy words,” he purred; the arm around her squeezed once more and then he was pushing her down with a hand between her shoulders, his cock leaving her completely as she dropped onto her elbows. “But I didn’t hear the prettiest word of all.”

She was going to kill him. She was going to get off, and then she was going to kill him. “Please! Please Lord Scourge, please please ple--AH!”

Cutting off with a shouted exclamation, she tangled cloth around her fists; he’d slammed home mid-word, hard enough her chin nearly smacked into the ground, and he’d left just as fast, driving so deep she knew she’d be aching the next day (and probably the rest of the week to boot, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind), but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that future ache. Finally, finally, _finally_ he was filling her, over and over, his hands on her hips the only thing keeping her from falling all the way down, but it _still wasn’t enough,_ his command forcing her pleasure to stay at an ever-rising plateau even as she rippled and clenched on him, silent fireworks going off at every breath-stealing thrust--

Above the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and her panting and crying, she could hear the Sith grunt before his grip tightened, shifting her higher; the change was enough to drag a soft shriek from her, and she tucked her head against the ground, feeling tears leak through the blindfold. If she’d thought she’d go mad before, now she truly felt it; she wanted to thrash and scream, wanted to turn around and shove him over, climb on top and then ride him, just so she could at last fall from the razor-thin edge he was keeping her on. “Please,” she wailed, the sound only slightly muffled, “I’m so close, please, I need it, need to come, please!”

“So soon? Greedy thing.” At least he sounded a _little_ out of breath this time; he left her _again,_ and then the world flipped, cloth torn from her hands before they were pinned above her head, his cock slipping back inside her just as quick. “Remember, little one. You _asked_ for this.”

Oh gods, she _had,_ and the collar around her neck was proof of it, even more so than that damned order; biting back more helpless sobs, she struggled to push that awful need away, to instead focus on how he filled her and the friction of his hard, ridged length against her walls, the teeth that closed on her racing pulse and the hand squeezing her breast. She was a _Jedi Knight,_ she’d been trained to withstand near anything--fatigue, impossible odds, interrogations, the seductive pull of the dark--she should be _more_ than capable of handling this, of ignoring her own aching need in favor of his, to serve him as she’d wanted to, no matter how crazy he was driving her. 

A pleased growl was all the response he gave her before wrapping a hand under one knee and lifting, forcing her legs to spread further; she curled the other around his waist as he withdrew, arched and screamed as he went even deeper than before, clawing for something to cling to until he was finished _(please please, let it be soon!)_ and ready to reward her for being his toy. 

_That’s my good girl_ echoed in her head, and then it was all she could do simply to try and control herself while he pounded into her over and over, kissing and biting and petting, leaving marks that she eventually realised, in a very abstract way, would lead to Questions from her crew if she didn’t try and heal them before they met up at the end of this horrible mission, whatever and wherever it may be. 

But that was a problem for future Khrysa, the same way the bruised, tender feeling from how hard he was using her would be; right now, his strokes were beginning to shorten, one hand tangling into the hair at the back of her head and pulling until she arched, a snarl drowning out her whimpering sobs before teeth sank into her shoulder--

Thank the _gods,_ he was finally coming, his cock thickening, pulsing inside her, filling her up with liquid heat and _then--_

**"Come for me--"**

The galaxy shattered--

Wave after wave after wave of long-delayed pleasure ripped through her, lightning shooting from every nerve, _nothing_ existed except the hard cock inside her, her own body there and not there--

Before she could start to come down, shaking and trembling, he said it again, voice a growl, **"Come--"**

A breathless shriek escaped from between clenched teeth, the grip holding her arms above her head _snapping_ so she could curl inwards, grab onto something to ride out this second orgasm as Belsavis and all its years of soaked-in pain disappeared, stars exploding behind her eyes, thank you thank you _thank you_ falling soundless from her lips--

It felt so good it hurt when he commanded her to come a third time, buried inside her as she writhed and struggled to find the air to scream, each orgasm building on the last instead of lessening, _force,_ she felt like she could _die_ from it, heart racing in her chest, pain from her nails cutting into her palms barely registering above the neverending pleasure, the blindfold at last sliding off, but her vision was still fireworks and explosions as she buried her face in his chest and wailed, a _fourth_ wrung from her aching flesh.

When she finally came back, head buzzing and body twitching helplessly, she was on top, Scourge’s arm draped over her waist keeping her close. Too weary to even lift herself up, she simply lay there, gasping for air like a fish out of water, eventually forcing her fists to unfurl; the sting from cut skin was a distant, far away thing, while the stretch of his cock was more immediate, her body gently throbbing around him. Letting out a soft moan, she shifted, trying to pull away.

“Shh, little Jedi. Just rest.” It was a soft rumble, one that vibrated through his chest and into her; she was relaxing before she knew it, eyes slipping closed as she went boneless. He’d said similar things to her before, during those few times she’d actually woken from her nightmares, soothing her back to sleep with his presence. “I’m here; you’re safe.”

“‘Course you’re here,” she muttered, once she found her tongue, mindlessly nuzzling into him, “still in me…”

That made him chuckle, his hand sliding down her waist to cup her ass, claws prickling her skin. Entirely without her permission, her hips moved, pressing into the touch; even this slight movement made her gasp, a pulse of pleasure making her clench on him and her mind fuzz a little more. 

She wasn’t... quite back from that altered headspace when she felt him reach for her neck, fingers touching her collar; she shook her head, trying to bat his hand away, not surprised by the soft jingle of metal on metal as she stirred. “Is fine,” she managed, “can leave it…”

No matter that he said he couldn’t feel emotions properly anymore, she felt something like surprise ripple through the force; the motion changed, curling into her hair to tug her face up. Lips briefly met hers, and she hummed into the kiss, not resisting as he freed her from the binders; she went limp once more, eyes dropping closed as a last thought drifted across her mind. “...ruining me for anyone else…”

Then there was nothing but the crackle of the fire and their breathing, Khrysa’s slowing into exhausted sleep as Scourge waited, staring meditatively into the yellow-gold flames. The mission could wait, just a little longer; against the darkness of the planet, he could sense other Sith lords, sowing chaos to distract the republic armies from greater objectives. Faintly, amongst the pandemonium, he could sense the oddity of Krannus somewhere ahead of them; a sith who wasn’t Sith, cut off from the force and spreading his own seeds of destruction. 

All too soon, he and this slip of a human--a mere child to his centuries of cursed half-life--would be back out there, fighting to keep the emperor from growing exponentially stronger. Unbidden, the crystal clear vision he’d been granted all those years ago rose to taunt him with the taste of victory; flashing just as quick, he saw the Jedi as she’d been earlier, eyes blank and glassy, a growing pool of blood darkening the soil under her. A breath that was too silent to be a sigh escaped him, and he switched his gaze to the woman sleeping in his arms, pouring a little more of his strength into her; in the force, her presence brightened, taking his darkness and absorbing it, growing from a low smoulder back to the flame it should be. 

Had he truly pinned over three hundred years' worth of stifled hope on this brave and oh so fragile creature?

_~fin_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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